


Not used to feeling mad

by JoLau



Category: Sister Claire (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Unbeta'd, olga and co just left for the helsing abbey, referenced miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoLau/pseuds/JoLau
Summary: After Olga shoots down her idea of talking things out with the Helsings, Claire goes for a walk and thinks for a bit.





	Not used to feeling mad

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time publishing fic for a while. I made this account to write and post SC fanfic because i left tumblr a while ago (and honestly that site was bad for my brain's welbeing). I hope yall enjoy and i'll try to post more stuff in the future :)

“You have no business taking part in this.”

Then Olga turned away from her, talking to Jackson, Oscar, the rest. The other adults.

She wanted to yell and stomp her feet. Shout and scream and make a ruckus until she was listened to, darn it all. Instead of doing any of those things, Claire stared at Olga’s back, simmering unnoticed. Dragging in cold air through her nose, she turned around, avoiding the eyes of anyone trying to catch her attention and ignoring any call of her name.

She was going for a walk.

She wouldn’t go far. Not because she wasn’t allowed, but because she didn’t know how to navigate across a blanket of constant white without getting lost.

Claire could feel familiar burning in her thighs start after just two minutes of walking. The snow tried its best to impede her, but with determination and extra frustration to spend, her legs had little trouble pushing through the powder. Little flakes billowed in the air, catching on her clothes, her face and her eyelashes. She would’ve pulled up her hood if she could. But she couldn’t. Freakin’ antlers. Suddenly Claire wished she had the brain to borrow a scarf before she stormed away.

Striding to the crest of a small hill, Claire spotted a grove of evergreens not far from her position. Bending her knees and going at a bit of an angle like she’d learned, she hurriedly made her way down into the dip in the land. Ducking between the trees, Claire shook her shoulders, relieving them of snow. She looked around. It was quiet, and she was alone.

So she had the tantrum she needed to have. Claire stomped the snow collected on her boots off onto the pine duff beneath her feet and kicked it away with the toe of her shoes, sending needles and dirty snow spraying against the trees. She kicked and stamped until the ground around her was a mess of snow and dirt and duff. Until she was kicking up dust instead of soil and pine, her teeth clenched tight, breath coming out heavy through her nostrils. Claire kicked, stomped, and punted the ground until she was breathing hard enough to taste iron at the back of her throat. Standing there, heaving, sweating under her clothes, feeling foolish and impetuous despite no one being around to call her so.

Claire sat down on the ground she kicked clear, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her hands, staring up at gray sky through spiny bows. Her thoughts became less fuzzy as her panting slowed down. Anger’s strange red hue faded from her mind, but frustration remained, even as a tiny speck.

She missed having a semblance of control over herself. Before the others caught up with them, at least Claire could feel like she had some agency, some autonomy, like she wasn’t being carried around like someone’s prized possession not meant for the eyes of others.

Claire was happy to see Olga, Jackson, Oscar, even Marguerite when they reconvened as a single group months ago. Seeing familiar faces filled her with comfortable warmth, the feeling of home despite that she didn’t really have a home anymore, not in the sense that she could return to the abbey and have everything go back to normal. But now…

Claire groaned and smeared her hands against her cheeks, not minding the weird way her skin stretched against the push.

It wasn’t that she wanted them to leave. It wasn’t that she wished that it would’ve just remained herself, Catharine, the twins, Lupo, and Gabby in the wilds. Claire just wanted to feel like a person again. Wanted to feel as though her opinion mattered just as much as Olga’s or Oscar’s. Her opinion did matter when it was just her, Rosie, Marie, and Lupo. It mattered before the horns. Before the --

Pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, Claire tried losing herself to the comforting dark of her closed eyelids, the itchy material of her gloves. Absently, she realised there were pine needles rubbing against her face, poking against her cold-hot cheeks. She didn’t care. Not right now. Not when even after the better half of a year, she desperately missed the weight, missed her belly feeling full and warm with life. She still didn’t know the details of what happened. She didn’t want to.

Sometimes, she just wanted to go back home.

Going home wasn’t an option any more.

Someone would come looking for her soon. The sigh came out heavy from her chest. Claire heaved herself upright, dusting the needles and dirt from her legs and bottom, shaking them from her gloves. As she left, Claire pushed a pile of duff over the patch of bare soil.


End file.
